


your love did all the rest (every single part)

by spookyfoot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Hair Washing, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post Season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16241057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyfoot/pseuds/spookyfoot
Summary: Keith helps Shiro stagger out of Black and into the tangle of bodies crowding the steps of the rebel base on Olkarion. His arms ache more than they ever have in his life, but Keith is afraid to let go of Shiro for too long. He’s haunted by the phantom sensation that they’re still falling.Some time alone to wash the battle from their skin and re-learn each others scars.





	your love did all the rest (every single part)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after season 6 so it's not fully canon compliant but I love hair washing and non sexual intimacy and sheith. I also wanted to explore them having a more intimate relationship as a natural development of their emotional intimacy so here we are. 
> 
> title from electricity by fmlybnd which is a sheith song don't @ me.
> 
> for the "healing" square on my Voltron bingo card.
> 
> how many times can I used the word "intimacy" in one author's note? the answer will surprise you

Keith helps Shiro stagger out of Black and into the tangle of bodies crowding the steps of the rebel base on Olkarion. His arms ache more than they ever have in his life, but Keith is afraid to let go of Shiro for too long. He’s haunted by the phantom sensation that they’re still falling.

(He’s haunted by the memories that came before that. Of knowing he made the right choice and still ending up with ghosts crowding his shoulders, building towers on his back.)

It’s Shiro’s fault. He’s made himself a home in the tender parts of Keith’s heart. The parts Shiro had conquered long ago, the flag faded and tattered and torn by time and distance and death—bent and bruised but undeniably standing. While two years have healed some of the wounds there, the universe still likes to prod the places it knows will bleed—to remind Keith that he can give up anything but Shiro. That he has and will again, if the circumstances demand it.

In the last drag of their feet up the front steps, Shiro stumbles. He’s coltish and wobbly on his legs, as unsteady as Keith’s ever seen him.

“Shiro?” Keith says.

“I’m fine, Keith,” Shiro says. When he smiles it doesn’t sit correctly on his face—a bright and bold advertisement faded and peeling at the edges. Like he’s too aware of all the ways this body still doesn’t feel like it’s his.

“You have a creative definition of fine,” Keith mumbles. Neither of them bothers to pursue their disagreement any further. They’ve gone down this road before, carved their own path through these woods via persistent footfall.

 _Later_ , he tells himself.

There are too many things that Keith is still aware of, too.  

//

Keith leaves Shiro in a room they’ll have to make their own before heading back out to make contact with Kolivan.

Kolivan, for his part, seems unsurprised to hear that two years have passed for Keith or that Krolia is his mother. His face, impassive, as ever seems to shift the tiniest bit when Keith tells him, but it could also be a mirage due to exhaustion.

The world doesn’t hold a shape like it should, these days.

He’s not as good at hiding it as he thinks. When Kolivan dismisses them Keith has the distinct sense that the rest of the team is exchanging loaded looks behind his back but while part of him bristles, the rest of him wants to be somewhere else far too badly to care.

Keith all but runs back to his room, and when he gets back Shiro’s asleep. The shock of white hair falling across his forehead and the slack lines of his face make him appear older and younger all at once.

 _Quiet_ , Keith thinks to himself. He starts to peel off his armor, caked in the aftermath of battle and lightyears of interstellar travel and all the revelations of the past few hours.

It’s never felt as heavy as it does now.

It sticks to his skin, loath to let go. Some deep part of him, the part that remembers the press of Shiro’s knife against his skin, the burn of it searing his cheek. The skin there—pink, jagged, gleaming re-knitted flesh—still feels warm sometimes.

The wound is still too new to itch even as it heals.

He’s free of the top part of his paladin armor and starting in on the sleek, skin tight pants, when Shiro’s eyes flutter open like a sigh. He looks at Keith from under a fan of white lashes, eyelids heavy and drooping downward, already protesting the latest development. Keith can relate.

“Keith,” he rasps.

“Hey.” Keith, still half dressed lingers on the other side of the room. “How are you feeling?”

 _How much do you remember?_ He wonders, even as he knows that it doesn’t matter. He’d give his life for any version of Shiro. For every version.

"I've been better." 

"So you've been worse," Keith says, making his way over to the bed.

“How am I ever going to live up to such high standards?” Shiro says, turning his face just enough so that he can place a soft at the center of Keith’s palm. This is new and precious and something Keith never thought he’d be allowed; never thought that Shiro would allow himself.

But all the previous forms of intimacy hadn’t allowed them to say the things they wanted to. So they’re testing out new ways, forging feet first onto ice that had long since grown thick enough to hold them.

“I have faith in your abilities,” Keith says. He runs the pad of his thumb across Shiro’s cheek. His knees crack as he stands. “But I need to shower.” King Alfor hadn’t built the lions with a long term residence in mind and Keith is still sticky with sweat and memories.

“A shower sounds great.”

It does, but: “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The standing part.”

“I can stand,” Shiro says, raising himself off the bed for a moment before collapsing back down again. “Okay. Maybe not.”

“Yeah, maybe not,” Keith says, rolling his eyes and fighting a grin. It’s ridiculous, but _this—_ this is what it means to have Shiro back. Really back.

_What if—_

“Don’t move, I have an idea.”

“'Don’t move.' Sure. I think I can manage that.”

Keith flips him off as he walks out the door and it's worth it to hear Shiro’s answering bark of laughter.

It’s been too long.

//

It takes a little finesse and a lot of sad looks and promises of future favors but Keith manages to find them a bathtub. He helps Shiro strip down, taking stock of all the new scars, the ones telling a story he wasn’t there to be a part of.  He doesn’t let his fingers linger on the tight and shiny pink skin of Shiro’s left thigh, the jagged valleys of re-knitted flesh on the right side of his torso.

Looking at Shiro is like returning home after a long time away only to find all the furniture’s been moved two inches to the left. There are parts of Shiro he doesn’t know now.

But he wants to.

Keith steps into the tub, helping Shiro in after him. They sit in the warm, soapy water, looking at all the ways each others familiar faces have changed.

(Keith wonders what new things Shiro sees when he looks at him. If he can look at his face without—)

“Thank you,” Shiro says.

“Come here,” he says.

Shiro moves closer, his thighs pressing against Keith’s, slick skin against skin.

“Let me wash your hair.”

“Keith—”

“Please,” Keith says. It doesn’t cost him as much to say it now as it used to. “Let me.”

_Let me help you._

Shiro leans away to get his hair wet and then forward into Keith’s touch. He sighs as Keith’s fingers rub circles into his scalp, and Keith relaxes as he feels Shiro go limp under his touch.

“Feels nice,” Shiro mumbles. His words run together, slurred from exhaustion.

It does. His head lolls against Keith’s shoulder, breaths steady and even, wet hair tickling the side of Keith’s neck.

There’s no phantom pain of falling, Shiro is warm and real and soft in his arms and it’s been a long time since Keith’s had the luxury of sitting still.

They stay in the tub long after the water turns cold.

**Author's Note:**

> come cry with me about them on[ tumblr](http://spookyfoot.tumblr.com) and [ twitter](http://twitter.com/spooky_foot).


End file.
